truck company were labouring with the heavy extension ladder that at its
longest stretch was many feet too short, crept four men upon long,
slender poles with cross-bars, iron-hooked at the end. Standing in one
window, they reached up and thrust the hook through the next one above,
then mounted a story higher. Again the crash of glass, and again the
dizzy ascent. Straight up the wall they crept, looking like human flies
on the ceiling, and clinging as close, never resting, reaching one
recess only to set out for the next; nearer and nearer in the race for
life, until but a single span separated the foremost from the boy. And
now the iron hook fell at his feet, and the fireman stood upon the step
with the rescued lad in his arms, just as the pent-up flames burst lurid
from the attic window, reaching with impotent fury for their prey. The
next moment they were safe upon the great ladder waiting to receive them
below.
Then such a shout went up! Men fell on each other's necks, and cried and
laughed at once. Strangers slapped one another on the back with
glistening faces, shook hands, and behaved generally like men gone
suddenly mad. Women wept in the street. The driver of a car stalled in
the crowd, who had stood through it all speechless, clutching the reins,
whipped his horses into a gallop and drove away, yelling like a
Comanche, to relieve his feelings. The boy and his rescuer were carried
across the street without anyone knowing how. Policemen forgot their
dignity and shouted with the rest. Fire, peril, terror, and loss were
alike forgotten in the one touch of nature that makes the whole world
kin.
Fireman John Binns was made captain of his crew, and the Bennett medal
was pinned on his coat on the next parade day.
JACOB A. RIIS
Whene'er a noble deed is wrought,
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought,
Our hearts in glad surprise
To higher levels rise.
LONGFELLOW
THE QUEST
There once was a restless boy
Who dwelt in a home by the sea,
Where the water danced for joy,
And the wind was glad and free;
But he said: "Good mother, O let me go!
For the dullest place in the world, I know,
Is this little brown house,
This old brown house,
Under the apple tree.
"I will travel east and west;
The loveliest homes I'll see;
And when I have found the best,
Dear mother, I'll come for thee.
I'll come for thee in a year and a day,
And joyfully then we'll haste away
From this little brown house,
This old brown house,
Under the apple tree."
So he travelled here and there,
But never content was he,
Though he saw in lands most fair
The costliest homes there be.
He something missed from the sea or sky,
Till he turned again with a wistful sigh
To the little brown house,
The old brown house,
Under the apple tree.
Then the mother saw and smiled,
While her heart grew glad and free.
"Hast thou chosen a home, my child?
Ah, where shall we dwell?" quoth she.
And he said: "Sweet mother, from east to west,
The loveliest home, and the dearest and best,
Is a little brown house,
An old brown house,
Under an apple tree."
EUDORA S. BUMSTEAD
THE JACKAL AND THE PARTRIDGE
A Jackal and a Partridge swore eternal friendship; but the Jackal was
very exacting and jealous. "You don't do half as much for me as I do for
you," he used to say, "and yet you talk a great deal of your friendship.
Now my idea of a friend is one who is able to make me laugh or cry,
give me a good meal, or save my life if need be. You couldn't do that!"
"Let us see," answered the Partridge; "follow me at a little distance,
and if I don't make you laugh soon you may eat me!"
So she flew on till she met two travellers trudging along, one behind
the other. They were both foot-sore and weary, and the first carried his
bundle on a stick over his shoulder, while the second had his shoes in
his hand.
Lightly as a feather the Partridge settled on the first traveller's
stick. He, none the wiser, trudged on; but the second traveller, seeing
the bird sitting so tamely just in front of his nose, said to himself:
"What a chance for a supper!" and immediately flung his shoes at it,
they being ready to hand. Whereupon the Partridge flew away, and the
shoes knocked off the first traveller's turban.
"What a plague do you mean?" cried he, angrily turning on his companion.
"Why did you throw your shoes at my head?"
"Brother!" replied the other, mildly, "do not be vexed. I didn't throw
them at you, but at a Partridge that was sitting on your stick."
"On my stick! Do you take me for a fool?" shouted the injured man, in a
great rage. "Don't tell me such cock-and-bull stories. First you insult
me, and then you lie like a coward; but I'll teach you manners!"
Then he fell upon his fellow-traveller without more ado, and they fought
until they could not see out of their eyes, till their noses were
bleeding, their clothes in rags, and the Jackal had nearly died of
laughing.
"Are you satisfied?" asked the Partridge of her friend.
"Well," answered the Jackal, "you have certainly made me laugh, but I
doubt if you could make me cry. It is easy enough to be a buffoon; it is
more difficult to excite the higher emotions."
"Let us see," retorted the Partridge, somewhat piqued; "there is a
huntsman with his dogs coming along the road. Just creep into that
hollow tree and watch me; if you don't weep scalding tears, you must
have no feeling in you!"
The Jackal did as he was bid, and watched the Partridge, who began
fluttering about the bushes till the dogs caught sight of her, when she
flew to the hollow tree where the Jackal was hidden. Of course the dogs
smelled him at once, and set up such a yelping and scratching that the
huntsman came up and, seeing what it was, dragged the Jackal out by the
tail. Whereupon the dogs worried him to their hearts' content, and
finally left him for dead.
By and by he opened his eyes--for he was only foxing--and saw the
Partridge sitting on a branch above him.
"Did you cry?" she asked anxiously. "Did I rouse your higher emo--"
"Be quiet, will you!" snarled the Jackal; "I'm half-dead with fear!"
So there the Jackal lay for some time, getting the better of his
bruises, and meanwhile he became hungry.
"Now is the time for friendship!" said he to the Partridge. "Get me a
good dinner, and I will acknowledge you are a true friend."
"Very well!" replied the Partridge; "only watch me, and help yourself
when the time comes."
Just then a troop of women came by, carrying their husbands' dinners to
the harvest-field.
The Partridge gave a little plaintive cry, and began fluttering along
from bush to bush as if she were wounded.
"A wounded bird!--a wounded bird!" cried the women; "we can easily catch
it!"
Whereupon they set off in pursuit, but the cunning Partridge played a
thousand tricks, till they became so excited over the chase that they
put their bundles on the ground in order to pursue it more nimbly. The
Jackal, meanwhile, seizing his opportunity, crept up, and made off with
a good dinner.
"Are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.
"Well," returned the Jackal, "I confess you have given me a very good
dinner; you have also made me laugh--and cry--ahem! But, after all, the
great test of friendship is beyond you--you couldn't save my life!"
"Perhaps not," acquiesced the Partridge, mournfully. "I am so small and
weak. But it grows late--we should be going home; and as it is a long
way round by the ford, let us go across the river. My friend, the
crocodile, will carry us over."
Accordingly, they set off for the river, and the crocodile kindly
consented to carry them across; so they sat on his broad back, and he
ferried them over. But just as they were in the middle of the stream the
Partridge remarked: "I believe the crocodile intends to play us a trick.
How awkward if he were to drop you into the water!"
"Awkward for you, too!" replied the Jackal, turning pale.
"Not at all! not at all! I have wings, you haven't."
On this the Jackal shivered and shook with fear, and when the crocodile,
in a grewsome growl, remarked that he was hungry and wanted a good meal,
the wretched creature hadn't a word to say.
"Pooh!" cried the Partridge, airily, "don't try tricks on us--I should
fly away, and as for my friend, the Jackal, you couldn't hurt _him_. He
is not such a fool as to take his life with him on these little
excursions; he leaves it at home locked up in the cupboard."
"Is that a fact?" asked the crocodile, surprised.
"Certainly!" retorted the Partridge. "Try to eat him if you like, but
you will only tire yourself to no purpose."
"Dear me! how very odd!" gasped the crocodile; and he was so taken aback
that he carried the Jackal safe to shore.
"Well, are you satisfied now?" asked the Partridge.
"My dear madam!" quoth the Jackal, "you have made me laugh, you have
made me cry, you have given me a good dinner, and you have saved my
life; but upon my honour I think you are too clever for a friend: so,
good-bye!"
And the Jackal never went near the Partridge again.
FLORA ANNIE STEEL: "Tales from the Punjab."
HIDE AND SEEK
All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still,
All the flocks of fleecy clouds have wandered past the hill;
Through the noonday silence, down the woods of June,
Hark! a little hunter's voice comes running with a tune.
"Hide and seek!
"When I speak,
"You must answer me:
"Call again,
"Merry men,
"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
Now I hear his footsteps, rustling through the grass:
Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pass?
Just a low, soft whistle,--quick the hunter turns,
Leaps upon me laughing, rolls me in the ferns.
"Hold him fast,
"Caught at last!
"Now you're it, you see.
"Hide your eye,
"Till I cry,
"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
Long ago he left me, long and long ago:
Now I wander through the world and seek him high and low;
Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,--
Ah, if I could hear his voice, I soon should find his face.
Far away,
Many a day,
Where can Barney be?
Answer, dear,
Don't you hear?
"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
Birds that in the spring-time thrilled his heart with joy,
Flowers he loved to pick for me, 'mind me of my boy.
Surely he is waiting till my steps come nigh;
Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die.
Heart be glad,
The little lad
Will call some day to thee:
"Father dear,
"Heaven is here,
"Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!"
HENRY VAN DYKE
THE BURNING OF THE "GOLIATH"
(Owing to the excellent discipline which Captain Bourchier had
established, and to the courage of the boys, only twelve lives
were lost out of the crew of five hundred).
Let me give you an example of self-denial which comes from near home. I
will speak to you of what has been done by little boys of seven, of
eight, of twelve, of thirteen;--little English boys, and English boys
with very few advantages of birth; not brought up, as most of you are,
in quiet, orderly homes, but taken from the London workhouses. I will
speak to you of what such little boys have done, not fifteen hundred, or
even two hundred years ago, but last week--last Wednesday, on the river
Thames.
Do you know of whom I am thinking? I am thinking of the little boys,
nearly five hundred, who were taken from different workhouses in London,
and put to school to be trained as sailors on board the ship which was
called after the name of the giant whom David slew--the training-ship
Goliath.
About eight o'clock on Wednesday morning that great ship suddenly caught
fire, from the upsetting of a can of oil in the lamp-room. It was hardly
daylight. In a very few minutes the ship was on fire from one end to the
other, and the fire-bell rang to call the boys to their posts. What did
they do? Think of the sudden surprise, the sudden danger--the flames
rushing all around them, and the dark, cold water below them! Did they
cry, or scream, or fly about in confusion? No; they ran each to his
proper place.
They had been trained to do that--they knew that it was their duty; and
no one forgot himself; no one lost his presence of mind. They all, as
the captain said: "behaved like men." Then, when it was found impossible
to save the ship, those who could swim jumped into the water by order of
the captain, and swam for their lives. Some, also at his command, got
into a boat; and then, when the sheets of flame and the clouds of smoke
came pouring out of the ship, the smaller boys for a moment were
frightened, and wanted to push away.
But there was one among them--the little mate: his name was William
Bolton: we are proud that he came from Westminster: a quiet boy, much
loved by his comrades--who had the sense and courage to say: "No; we
must stay and help those that are still in the ship." He kept the barge
alongside the ship as long as possible, and was thus the means of saving
more than one hundred lives!
There were others who were still in the ship while the flames went on
spreading. They were standing by the good captain, who had been so kind
to them all, and whom they all loved so much. In that dreadful crisis
they thought more of him than of themselves. One threw his arms round
his neck and said: "You'll be burnt, Captain;" and another said: "Save
yourself before the rest." But the captain gave them the best of all
lessons for that moment. He said: "That's not the way at sea, my boys."
He meant to say--and they quite understood what he meant--that the way
at sea is to prepare for danger beforehand, to meet it manfully when it
comes, and to look at the safety, not of oneself, but of others. The
captain had not only learned that good old way himself, but he also knew
how to teach it to the boys under his charge.
DEAN STANLEY
HEARTS OF OAK
Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to this wonderful year,
To honour we call you, not press you like slaves,
For who are so free as the sons of the waves?
Hearts of oak are our ships, hearts of oak are our men,
We always are ready,
Steady, boys, steady,
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
Still Britain shall triumph, her ships plough the sea,
Her standard be justice, her watchword "Be free;"
Then, cheer up, my lads, with one heart let us sing
Our soldiers, our sailors, our statesmen, our king.
Hearts of oak are our ships, hearts of oak are our men,
We always are ready,
Steady, boys, steady,
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.
DAVID GARRICK
A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA
A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast,
And fills the white and rustling sail,
And bends the gallant mast;
And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While, like the eagle free,
Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lee!
"O for a soft and gentle wind!"
I heard a fair one cry;
But give to me the snoring breeze
And white waves heaving high;
And white waves heaving high, my boys,
The good ship tight and free,--
The world of waters is our home,
And merry men are we.
There's tempest in yon hornèd moon,
And lightning in yon cloud;
And hark the music, mariners,
The wind is piping loud!
The wind is piping loud, my boys,
The lightning flashes free,--
While the hollow oak our palace is,
Our heritage the sea.
ALLAN CUNNINGHAM
THE TALENTS
The kingdom of heaven is as a man travelling into a far country, who
called his own servants, and delivered unto them his goods. And unto one
he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one; to every man
according to his several ability; and straightway took his journey.
Then he that had received the five talents went and traded with the
same, and made them other five talents. And likewise he that had
received two, he also gained other two. But he that had received one
went and digged in the earth, and hid his lord's money. After a long
time the lord of those servants cometh, and reckoneth with them.
And so he that had received five talents came and brought other five
talents saying, "Lord, thou deliveredst unto me five talents: behold, I
have gained beside them five talents more." His lord said unto him,
"Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over
a few things, I will make thee ruler over many things: enter thou into
the joy of thy lord."
He also that had received two talents came and said, "Lord, thou
deliveredst unto me two talents: behold, I have gained two other talents
beside them." His lord said unto him, "Well done, good and faithful
servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things, I will make thee
ruler over many things: enter thou into the joy of thy lord."
Then he which had received the one talent came and said, "Lord, I knew
thee that thou art an hard man, reaping where thou hast not sown, and
gathering where thou hast not strawed; and I was afraid, and went and
hid thy talent in the earth: lo, there thou hast that is thine." His
lord answered and said unto him, "Thou wicked and slothful servant, thou
knewest that I reap where I sowed not, and gather where I have not
strawed: thou oughtest therefore to have put my money to the
exchangers, and then at my coming I should have received mine own with
usury. Take therefore the talent from him, and give it unto him which
hath ten talents. For unto every one that hath shall be given, and he
shall have abundance: but from him that hath not shall be taken away
even that which he hath. And cast ye the unprofitable servant into outer
darkness: there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth."
ST. MATTHEW, XXV. 14-30
A FAREWELL
My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray;
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you
For every day.
I'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol
Than lark who hails the dawn or breezy down,
To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel
Than Shakespeare's crown.
Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever;
Do noble things, not dream them, all day long:
And so make life, death, and that vast forever,
One grand, sweet song.
KINGSLEY
AN APPLE ORCHARD IN THE SPRING
Have you seen an apple orchard in the spring?
In the spring?
An English apple orchard in the spring?
When the spreading trees are hoary
With their wealth of promised glory,
And the mavis sings its story,
In the spring.
Have you plucked the apple blossoms in the spring?
In the spring?
And caught their subtle odours in the spring?
Pink buds pouting at the light,
Crumpled petals baby white
Just to touch them a delight--
In the spring.
Have you walked beneath the blossoms in the spring?
In the spring?
Beneath the apple blossoms in the spring?
When the pink cascades are falling,
And the silver brooklets brawling,
And the cuckoo bird soft calling,
In the spring.
If you have not, then you know not, in the spring,
In the spring,
Half the colour, beauty, wonder of the spring,
No sweet sight can I remember
Half so precious, half so tender,
As the apple blossoms render,
In the spring.
WILLIAM MARTIN
THE BLUEJAY
Said Jim Baker: "There's more to a bluejay than to any other creature.
He has more kinds of feeling than any other creature; and mind you,
whatever a bluejay feels, he can put into words. No common words either,
but out-and-out book-talk. You never see a jay at a loss for a word.
"You may call a jay a bird. Well, so he is, because he has feathers on
him. Otherwise, he is just as human as you are.
"Yes, sir; a jay is everything that a man is. A jay can laugh, a jay can
gossip, a jay can feel ashamed, just as well as you do, maybe better.
And there's another thing: in good, clean, out-and-out scolding, a
bluejay can beat anything alive.
"Seven years ago the last man about here but me moved away. There stands
his house--a log house with just one big room and no more: no ceiling,
nothing between the rafters and the floor.
"Well, one Sunday morning I was sitting out here in front of my cabin,
with my cat, taking the sun, when a bluejay flew down on that house with
an acorn in his mouth.
"'Hello,' says he, 'I reckon here's something.' When he spoke, the acorn
fell out of his mouth and rolled down on the roof. He didn't care; his
mind was on the thing he had found.
"It was a knot-hole in the roof. He cocked his head to one side, shut
one eye, and put the other to the hole, like a 'possum looking down a
jug.'
"Then he looked up, gave a wink or two with his wings, and says: 'It
looks like a hole, it's placed like a hole--and--if I don't think it is
a hole!'
"Then he cocked his head down and took another look. He looked up with
joy, this time winked his wings and his tail both, and says: 'If I ain't
in luck! Why it's an elegant hole!'
"So he flew down and got that acorn and dropped it in, and was tilting
his head back with a smile when a queer look of surprise came over his
face. Then he says: 'Why, I didn't hear it fall.'
"He cocked his eye at the hole again and took a long look; rose up and
shook his head; went to the other side of the hole and took another look
from that side; shook his head again. No use.
"So after thinking awhile, he says: 'I reckon it's all right. I'll try
it, anyway.'
"So he flew off and brought another acorn and dropped it in, and tried
to get his eye to the hole quick enough to see what became of it. He was
too late. He got another acorn and tried to see where it went, but he
couldn't.
"He says: 'Well, I never saw such a hole as this before. I reckon it's a
new kind.' Then he got angry and walked up and down the roof. I never
saw a bird take on so.
"When he got through, he looked in the hole for half a minute; then he
says: 'Well, you're a long hole, and a deep hole, and a queer hole, but
I have started to fill you, and I'll do it if it takes a hundred
years.'
"And with that away he went. For two hours and a half you never saw a
bird work so hard. He did not stop to look in any more, but just threw
acorns in and went for more.
"Well, at last he could hardly flap his wings he was so tired out. So he
bent down for a look. He looked up, pale with rage. He says: 'I've put
in enough acorns to keep the family thirty years, and I can't see a sign
of them.'
"Another jay was going by and heard him. So he stopped to ask what was
the matter. Our jay told him the whole story. Then he went and looked
down the hole and came back and said: 'How many tons did you put in
there?' 'Not less than two,' said our jay.
"The other jay looked again, but could not make it out; so he gave a
yell and three more jays came. They all talked at once for awhile, and
then called in more jays.
"Pretty soon the air was blue with jays, and every jay put his eye to
the hole and told what he thought. They looked the house all over, too.
The door was partly open, and at last one old jay happened to look in.
There lay the acorns all over the floor.
"He flapped his wings and gave a yell: 'Come here, everybody! Ha! Ha!
He's been trying to fill a house with acorns!'
"As each jay took a look, the fun of the thing struck him, and how he
did laugh. And for an hour after they roosted on the housetop and trees,
and laughed like human beings. It isn't any use to tell me a bluejay
hasn't any fun in him. I know better."
SAMUEL L. CLEMENS (Mark Twain)
A CANADIAN CAMPING SONG
A white tent pitched by a glassy lake,
Well under a shady tree,
Or by rippling rills from the grand old hills,
Is the summer home for me.
I fear no blaze of the noontide rays,
For the woodland glades are mine,
The fragrant air, and that perfume rare,
The odour of forest pine.
A cooling plunge at the break of day,
A paddle, a row, or sail,
With always a fish for a mid-day dish,
And plenty of Adam's ale.
With rod or gun, or in hammock swung,
We glide through the pleasant days;
When darkness falls on our canvas walls,
We kindle the camp fire's blaze.
From out the gloom sails the silv'ry moon,
O'er forests dark and still,
Now far, now near, ever sad and clear,
Comes the plaint of the whip-poor-will;
With song and laugh, and with kindly chaff,
We startle the birds above,
Then rest tired heads on our cedar beds,
To dream of the ones we love.
SIR J. D. EDGAR: "This Canada of Ours."
THE ARGONAUTS
Now, when the building of the ship Argo was finished, the fifty heroes
came to look upon her, and joy filled their hearts. "Surely," said they,
"this is the greatest ship that ever sailed the sea."
So eager were they to make trial of the long oars that some, leaping on
the shoulders of their comrades and grasping the shrouds, clambered over
the bulwarks upon the thwarts and drew the rest in after them. Orpheus,
upon the mighty shoulders of Jason the leader of the expedition, seized
hold of the arm of the azure-eyed goddess, the figure-head of the ship,
and, as he climbed on board, her whisper reached his ear. "Orpheus, sing
me something." This was the song:
"How sweet upon the surge to ride,
And leap from wave to wave,
While oars flash fast above the tide
And lordly tempests rave.
How sweet it is across the main,
In wonder-land to roam,
To win rich treasure, endless fame,
And earn a welcome home."
Then the good ship Argo stirred in all her timbers and longing for the
restless sea came upon her and she rushed headlong down the grooves till
the lips of the goddess tasted the salt sea spray.
Many a day they sailed through laughing seas and ever they spoke
together of the glory of the Golden Fleece which they hoped to bring
home from far off Colchis.